


The Longest Month

by quixoticStrigiformes



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, i will tag more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticStrigiformes/pseuds/quixoticStrigiformes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, Prince Gumball,” she calls after you. “I expect you to move out of the castle in three days for as long as it takes to find a wife, or don’t, as the case may be. Have a nice night!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Rules and Making Laws

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Adventure Time fanfic so I hope it's okay! If you can't stand second person, I suggest you turn back now. I can't promise regular updates but I hope I can keep it going. Title is subject to change because I'm bad at naming things D: The rating will probably go up as the story progresses!

 

-PRINCE GUMBALL-

You’ve made it a rule to never ever yell at anyone, no matter the reason. You believe in gentle encouragement for everyone, including those who deserve reprimand. It is today that you finally break that rule.

“What is she doing here?” you demand. Peppermint Maid is wringing her hands nervously as you run a hand over your gummy hair.

“Prince, she’s found a loophole –“

“She’s not supposed to be back here! I’m eighteen again. Legally allowed to rule the Candy Kingdom!” You’re verging on hysterical now. You dial it back a bit. An angry glance is stolen at the yellow woman, who is studying every candy brick in the castle walls for cracks. Cracks in the candy bricks would be unacceptable. Cracks in the candy bricks would require many years dungeon.

Peppermint Maid lays a hand on your shin – it’s the only place she can reach on account of her height – and gives it a gentle pat. “We will figure something out. She’s pretty crazy, though.” With that, you dismiss her to return to her duties. She hurries out of the hall; another minute with Lemonsnatch would drive even the sanest of candy people up the walls.

You are the unlucky soul who has to deal with her.

You take a moment to collect yourself and then make your way over to where she is: studying the portrait of your great grandmother, Queen Spearmint. She doesn’t seem to notice that you’re next to her, so you politely clear your throat.

“Lemonsnatch,” you begin, and are immediately cut off.

“Prince Gumball, as you may have already heard, I am taking control of the Candy Kingdom and its castle,” Lemonsnatch broke in. Her voice is grating. Now all you can think about is rubbing her head through a cheese grater, which is no way to think of the now official Queen. You try to answer her but she interjects once more. “It is all perfectly legal. I have read all the documents –“

“I’ve read all the royal documents as well, Lemonsnatch, and never have I read that a countess is able to claim control of the throne.” Another of your rules is broken: you never interrupt anyone, no matter how many times they interrupt you. Lemonsnatch is bringing out the worst in you.

“On the contrary,” she maintains. “I suggest you open the updated version of the Candy Kingdom Royal Throne manual.”

“There haven’t been any changes to that manual since my grandfather King Peppermint added Clause One Hundred Seventy Six!”

Clause 176 was a monumental addition to the Candy Kingdom Royal Throne manual. It required the person in possession of the throne to throw a royal pillow fight a minimum of once a year – a truly historic proviso.

“Nnnuueaahhh!” Lemonsnatch screeches in disagreement. “There’s a new rule! When I was previously in power, I added another clause!” She whips out a copy of the manual and flips to the last page. The page that she shoves at you is covered in a messy scrawl, but you are able to make out the words.

Your eyes widen. “No,” you manage to choke out.

“Yes! Ahahahaha! While you were too young to rule, I made it not only possible but a requirement for any living countess or earl to take the throne!” She continues to laugh. “But, I will make an exception for you. If you, as next in line for the throne, are able to find a suitable wife with my approval within a month, I will allow you to reclaim your title.”

You push your rising anger back down into the pit of your stomach, turn on your heel, and stride toward the exit. Your head is high; pride is all you have.

“Oh, Prince Gumball,” she calls after you. “I expect you to move out of the castle in three days for as long as it takes to find a wife, or don’t, as the case may be. Have a nice night!”

Three is your favorite number. All the best things come in threes. Today, you will have broken three of your rules, a new record for you. The previous record was zero.

The third and last rule you break today is one that you would have never dared to break, a rule even more important that the first two combined. You stomp straight up to that sour Lemonsnatch and backhand her right across her sick, yellow face. Then you stomp straight out.

 

\-----

 

The room probably heats up at least five degrees when you enter it. You are absolutely seething! So much so that your skin is getting tacky with heat. There isn’t much for you to do, or that you can do besides pack your bags.

You consider talking to someone about your predicament. As the Candy Kingdom Prince, you have never had much need for venting, as venting was usually something done at you and not by you. Listening to citizens’ grievances takes up quite a bit of time. The only beings you can think of to talk to are your adventuring friends and Peppermint Maid, who has probably already heard your inexcusable doings and doesn’t necessarily want a repeat.

While it isn’t a rule, sneaking out of the castle is another thing you don’t normally do. Tonight demands abnormality. Something as serious as this should go straight to Fionna and Cake, Ooo’s finest adventurers and heroes. Lord Monochromicorn is always on call – he really is gum’s best friend – and he’s never opposed to visiting Cake. He doesn’t question the abrupt departure or the fact that there’s a departure at all, but you can tell he’s curious. It only takes a few minutes to get there, something you give thanks to Glob for.

There isn’t a knocker on the door to the tree house, so you use your hand, which is balled up in a tight, nearly white fist. You can hear Fionna and Cake racing each other to the door. Naturally, Cake wins. Her powers give her an edge that Fionna just doesn’t have. The door swings open with a whoosh and a confused Cake appears in the doorway.

“Gumball?” her eyebrows screw up a bit. “What’re you doing here? Oh, Lord Monochromicorn, you’re here too!” She scoots around you to be with your mighty steed.

Fionna pokes her head out around the door. “Is something up?” she asks after she sees how serious you assume you look. You’re not very good at judging your facial expressions.

“Could I come in?” You deflect her question for the moment. They let you inside and take you upstairs. Lord Monochromicorn stays outside; he’s never been a fan of the tree house despite the fact that his girlfriend lives there. Cake offers you some tea; Fionna gathers up the junk on their couch and throws it in the trunk next to the bookshelf.

“So what’s going on, Gumball?” Fionna asks when the tea is done. Their armchair is cozy and inviting as you plop down on it.

“News doesn’t travel quite as quickly these days, does it?” You answer wistfully. It doesn’t really answer their question though, so you continue. You brace yourself. “Lemonsnatch is queen of the Candy Kingdom now.”

Cake yowls, her tail fluffing up in anger; Fionna visibly shakes. It’s probably better that this was their reaction instead of them immediately plotting and executing revenge. They toss out several insults at Lemonsnatch. You wait patiently for them to calm down enough for you to continue.

“She has kindly given me a month to find a suitable wife,” you say with a grimace, “whom she must approve of as a chance to reclaim the throne.”

Cake stares at you, her mouth agape. Fionna groans. “That’s just like her! How did she even manage to become queen in the first place?” She asks incredulously.

“Remember when I turned thirteen again?” you remind her.

How could either of you forget? Back then you had had a faint crush on the blond haired girl. As the same age you were able to ignore your royal responsibilities and plan terrific pranks all day. She was crushed when you accelerated your age using her whopping love hug. You’d known Fionna liked you then; whether or not she liked you now was an enigma.

“She rewrote the rules,” Fionna realizes in a breathy voice. Cake’s claws tighten around the threads of the sofa.

You sip at your tea. The process of sinking information such as this in takes time, and you’re not opposed to having a moment to think clearly. Telling the sisters your predicament is a weight off your shoulders.

“So what are you gonna do?” Fionna asked quietly.

You shrug. “I suppose I will have to start searching for a suitable wife,” you begin, then add, “who is of age” as Cake perks up and looks between you and Fionna eagerly. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Lemonsnatch will approve of any female I bring to the castle. She would do anything to stay in power.”

The conversation drones on as you explain in great detail the monstrosity that is Lemonsnatch and her status as queen. You must admit how foreign this is for you; never before has your title been threatened. You don’t expect much worthwhile help from the adventurers. They have even less experience in issues like this than you. That’s not to say that you don’t appreciate their concern!

A glance at the clock alerts you to how late it is. You politely excuse yourself, reasoning that you must pack your things tonight and prepare to leave the castle soon. You realize you shouldn’t have said that the moment it slips out.

“She’s kicking you out?” Cake shrieks. “You are always welcome here, baby! Just bring your stuff over here and we’ll take care of you.”

You smile. You wonder by whose graces you were able to have friends as wonderful as Fionna and Cake. But you don’t want to be a burden. “Thank you, but I can’t accept your offer. I need to be out and about, and what better way to further acquaint myself with my subjects? Besides, I need some adventure in my life. You guys take up all the fun!” You play-punch Fionna on her upper arm. She chuckles and returns the favor.

As you slide through the door into the chilling night, Cake repeats her offer for housing and Fionna wishes you the best of luck. Lord Monochromicorn bids Cake goodbye and offers his back to you. You decide on walking home tonight; you need the exercise and the time to ponder your next move. Since when do you think in terms of moves? You’re definitely not war savvy. Your companion flies off towards the castle, a deep black ribbon against the blue backdrop of night.

You wish you had better connections with princesses across Ooo. A princess would at least have an inkling of a chance of approval. A ladies man, you will never claim to be. You hope that your vast knowledge and charm will win someone over.

It would be the perfect temperature outside if it weren’t so breezy. You clutch your jacket closer around your body. At least you’re not so warm anymore. The fresh air clears your mind, but you don’t forget the disgusting yellow face of the Candy Queen, nor do you forget the bad deeds she forced out of you.

Fionna’s parting words ring in your ear: “Good luck.” You sincerely hope you won’t need it.


	2. Lemon Butts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is simultaneously late and early for me! I don't know how soon I can get the next one up, and the ones after that, but I hope this one's okay. uwu (also happy 4/13 for you homestucks out there!)

-MARSHALL LEE-

As far as names go, you think that Marshall Lee is pretty rad. You couldn’t think of a better name for yourself. Except for maybe Prince Hot Bod, but Marshall Lee is a close second.

You feel bad for people with poorly chosen names, but not bad enough to not make fun of them for it. Sometimes you make acquaintances with people who have bad names, and because you might actually care some for them, you give them nicknames that keep you from having to let their real name darken your tongue with its presence. Like Gumball, for instance. Gumball isn’t a terrible name, although it’s definitely not what you would have picked. Candy people have strange customs and, accordingly, strange names. You’ve given him an awesome nickname: Bubba. He doesn’t seem to like it very much. You find that offensive. Your nicknames are priceless treasures that many people could only dream of getting!

Speaking of the Candy Prince, you hadn’t heard from him in a while. Not since you gave him that band t-shirt, at least. You weren’t sure if he would like it, but whatever. As they always say, it’s the thought that counts. He usually contacts you every week or two, so the silence is deafening. Maybe you should check up on him. Tonight’s jam session with Wendell and the gang will have to wait. It’s not because you’re worried about him! And definitely not because you have underlying feelings of friendship towards the dude.

You drift over to the kitchen table and shove your house keys in you pocket - thank Glob for these deep, deep pockets – while finishing off a glass of red cranberry juice. You swipe your sleeve across your mouth and leave the glass on top of the growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink. The bell on the door tinkles when you open and close it; every so often you move the door just to hear the bell. It makes you feel less alone, like someone was coming in to visit. 

The cave is particularly quiet today with the exception of the drip-drip-drip of water falling from the stalactites. It’s pretty dark out now so you can travel safely. The trip, which usually passed quickly, felt like it dragged on forever, and that’s saying something. You’ve lived a long time, longer than most of the beings on Ooo. Time goes by simultaneously slow and fast. 

Despite the lengthy float, you arrive without boredom. You’re buzzing. What lies beyond the castle doors is a mystery that you’re sure to decipher. A quest never goes un-quested! 

You ignore the banana guards and float on up to Gumball’s balcony; rules were made to be broken, right? He won’t mind. You drop in on him all the time and he’s only mad for a few minutes at the most. You rap your knuckles on the windows. A minute trudges by before he appears, moving the thick, dark pink curtains aside. He visibly sighs. What’s the matter with him tonight? Gumball should be honored by your presence. The King of the Nightosphere consorting with the Prince of the Candy Kingdom is one sour belt away from illegal. 

Gumball opens the door with a huff, but you disregard his irritation and drift inside. Being aloof is a quality you’ve got down to a T. After all, you’ve seen a lot of horrors; being emotionally numb comes naturally to you now, so much so that it’s not even a front anymore. People just assume you’ve always been a cool cat. Well, not a cat. That’s Cake’s thing. You flop on his bed unceremoniously. It’s pretty soft, as you’ve suspected for a while but hadn’t had the motivation to test. You never really sit on anything, which explains why Fionna and Cake complain so much about how hard your furniture is. 

Gumball’s incessant foot tapping brings you out of your thoughts. You frown at him. “Could you stop that? It’s annoying.”

The glare he shoots at you is cold in contrast to the anger that it holds. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll stop right away, since I’m considerate of other people’s feelings!” He sneers with heavy sarcasm. What is up with him? He’s never been this nasty to you, no matter how fed up he is.

The Pink Prince stomps into his walk-in closet. You can hear him shuffling through his various – and completely pink – outfits. Your curiosity gets the better of you; you round the corner and enter his closet. It looks like all of the suitcases he owns are on the floor, open and waiting to be filled. Some of them already are. His clothes are strewn around in piles, carefully organized by use. He is a tornado, pulling clothing off their hangers and throwing them to the ground before he sorts them. He is oblivious to your presence as he is caught up in the whirlwind of packing.

“Dude,” you say, “are you going somewhere?”

He hesitates only for a moment. “You could say that,” Gumball says bitterly. He starts to fold one of the piles and stacks each article in an empty suitcase. 

“Vague doesn’t suit you, Bubba. Since when do you avoid giving unnecessarily long and detailed answers?” You prod a bit. You’re hoping jokes will lighten the mood, but apparently things are much more serious than you thought. 

Gumball stops his folding and looks you straight in the eye. “Look, Marshall, I really don’t have time for this right now. I’ve got to pack.”

“But for what? You’re avoiding the question.”

“Glob, fine!” He throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Lemonsnatch is kicking me out of the castle! She wrote a new rule in the Candy Kingdom Royal Throne Manual that makes her legally queen of the Candy Kingdom. I’m being kicked out in three days to find a wife in under a month or else I can’t become prince again.” It comes out in a rush, almost jumbled enough to make you have to repeat himself.

You’re not very good at taking bad news that directly affects you. Lemonsnatch being the Queen of the Candy Kingdom means you have to report to her if and when you need anything from the kingdom. It’s hard to take in all at once. 

You run your hand through your hair. “Glob, Gumball,” you breathe. “That’s heavy.” 

“I know,” he muttered. The air is weighted with bitterness. You probably shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have come in the first place. Fionna and Cake would have told you eventually. You both stare at the floor, a plush pink carpet that does nothing to sweeten your mood. 

You distract yourself by studying his clothes; all of it was fruity, candy colored garb that you couldn’t imagine every adorning your bod with. Everything is so sweet and lavish it almost makes you sick just to look at it. Sometimes you wish you could rummage through his closet and replace everything with something more stylish. A pair of jeans couldn’t hurt the guy. He is in desperate need of some color variation, too! But whatever. You’re not in charge of buying clothes for him, nor are you his personal fashion consultant. You work for no one.

A bit of black catches your eye as it is placed in one of the many suitcases. You recognize it immediately: the shirt you’d given him a few weeks ago. 

“You kept the shirt?” You hover over it, feeling a mix of disbelief and pride. You didn’t think he’d actually keep it. 

“Of course!” he exclaims, shooting you a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You snort. “It’s not exactly your style.”

It’s his turn to laugh. Although he doesn’t do it often, a laugh does Gumball well. His laugh tinkles like the sugar bells that hang in the front hall of his castle, delicate but powerful; he doesn’t laugh like the bell on your door. That bell is the embodiment of loneliness. 

“I wear it as a night shirt,” Bubba explains, growing slightly pinker. It could just be the reflection of the entire room, you assure yourself. You should have guessed that he wouldn’t wear it out of his room. Maybe you should be offended, but you still puff up a bit in pride. You are such an awesome dude for getting him that shirt. Unfortunately, being so awesome doesn’t cancel out the dread hanging in the air. It’s heavy, heavy enough to keep you grounded. You look away, but there’s nowhere in this room to look without feeling bitter. The empty closets and drawers, the filled suitcases, Gumball’s sad smile: all of them frustrate you. You knew that Lemonsnatch was a witch, but you hadn’t thought of her as this malicious. If only you’d come earlier; you could have kicked her sour butt all the way to the Fire Kingdom.

You pull yourself from these depressing thoughts to the present. No need to dwell on the past now that you can’t change it. You need to focus on the present, especially now that Gumball is going to be out of the castle and on his own for the first time. He’s not exactly the best equipped for that job. You smirk to yourself. He’s pretty soft, and not just because he’s made out of gum. He’s always been uptight about being the prince, with no time to have fun and relax. It’ll be a shocker for him to explore the lands that he actually rules. Now you’re not so amused. There are a lot of bad guys out in Ooo. Fionna and Cake would be out of a job if there weren’t, and they’ve been pretty busy for a while now. 

You decide to keep an eye on the gummy guy. Luckily you have an amazing array of impressive talents, which include the ability to turn yourself invisible. It shouldn’t be too hard to look out for him. You’ll be like his guardian angel, except less creepy and definitely not as wrinkly. Fionna described her encounter with a guardian angel she met in the chamber of the Crystal Eye, and there is no way you’re ever going to be that nasty. But you’re still not really the angel type. Maybe you can be his guardian half-demon or something like that.

Gumball clears his throat. You’re startled and jerk your head up in response. “I really should finish packing,” he says softly, with the insinuation that you need to leave. You suspect the waterworks are going to start and you definitely don’t want to stick around to witness that, so you stand up. He follows suit.

“So, uh,” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly, “good luck with everything. Keep in touch.”

He nods with another sad smile. “See you around,” he offers. 

You almost turn around, but something urges you forward into a pretty sick bear hug with Gumball. You can hear the air being squeezed out of his stretchy self and make a mental note of your bear hug prowess but ease up on your grip anyway. After a few seconds you let go and take a few steps back. Awkward smiles abound. You give a wave, which is returned, and make your exit. It’s not so grand as your entrance, but who can blame you? 

You must have been in there for longer than you’d thought; the spirits are already out, wandering the cemetery. You stop to chat with some of your old friends. They’re all sad to hear about Gumball being kicked off the throne. Most of these ghosts were alive when he was born and found him endearing as a squishy baby. You tell them about how big he’s gotten, and how smart. You feel kinda bad for the spirits here. For a lot of them, their lives were cut short by wars between different lands. Only a few of them have stuck around since the Great Mushroom War; the rest have ascended to the 50th Dead World. You probably should tell the ones left what their cause of death is, but you selfishly keep it secret. The only person in Ooo besides these few spirits to have witnessed the horrors of the war with you is the Ice Queen, and you’re not to keen on her being the last of them. She’s still someone dear to your heart, not that you would admit it to anyone. You bid the souls goodbye and continue on to your home.

The float back home is dreary. You’re hanging way too close to the ground, but you don’t have the will to go higher. The grass tickles at your shoes. You don’t really want to go home, not now that your friend needs someone and you can help him. Gumball is turning you into a real softie. 

And just as soon as you leave, you are home. Home, by yourself. The way it always seems to be.

But you have an idea that might change that.


	3. Dramatic Depart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> son of a bleep blob

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since the last chapter omo

-PRINCE GUMBALL-

Breakfast is difficult the next morning. You can barely keep your eyes open; staying up all night to pack probably wasn’t the best idea, especially since you won’t be leaving for another two days. You savor every moment now that you know they are your last in the castle for a while. Perhaps even forever, you remind yourself sadly.

                 

                  Lemonsnatch is in a sour mood, but when is she not? You’re surprised she doesn’t kick you out sooner. She does, however, banish you from the dining room so that she may eat her pancakes in peace. Peppermint Maid brings you a small stack after she’s done assisting Lemonsnatch. You are immensely grateful for your minty friend. She’s stood by you through thick and thin, through sugar and spice, through sweet and sour! You will be sad to see her under Lemonsnatch’s greedy hands. In fact, the whole kingdom is soon to be within her grasp.

 

                  You have a lot of worrying to do.

 

                  Last night you realized you might not have thought your packing through. You have a grand total of seven suitcases and a backpack full of clothing and any provisions you could possibly need on your adventure. Arrangements were made soon after you downed your pancakes for Fionna and Cake to pick up the suitcases on the evening before your departure. A magic bag would suit you best for easy retrieval of clothes, but you don’t dare leave the castle to find one. Maybe you’ll find one en route.

 

                  You spend the next two days walking the castle, memorizing every nook and cranny of the candy rooms and talking to any and all candy citizens that visited. You don’t tell them goodbye, though you hint at it. Instead you warn them of Lemonsnatch. Candy people, as you know all too well, explode when scared or stressed. You’re not about to freak them out for the last time.

 

                  You spend the most time in your lab and its various divisions. You think you’ll miss this the most. Science is your passion! You mean, besides caring for the people of your kingdom. You are determined to leave your mark on the science world in your absence; you seal the entrance to the lab so that Lemonsnatch will never access it, but you leave a loophole for those with a scientific mind. Directions to the lab have been erased from every map of the castle. You make Peppermint Maid and your other servants swear to never reveal its location, but there’s no doubt in your mind that they will keep it secret. The loyalty of the candy people is legendary.

 

                  Before you leave the lab for good, you organize your writings, which include things like formulas, experiment notes, and theories, into several folders and books. They are put into storage.

                 

                  The absolute last thing you do in the lab is attend to Science the rat. Your friendly companion squeaks sadly at your departure. It’s for the best, you remind yourself as you remove the candy corn rat from its cage and release it. Science gives you one last look before they scurry away into the castle’s extensive rat passages. How you wish you could take Science with you!

 

                  At the end of the third day, Fionna and Cake come to take your baggage. They are bitter, but considerably less so than last time you saw them. You won’t lose touch with them, though; if anything, they’ll probably tag along for some of your adventure!

 

Well, they’ll tag along.

 

                  It’s your last night in the place you’ve called home for your entire life. You change into your pajamas in your oversized bathroom, brush your teeth, and pull the sheets back on your bed all while contemplating the days ahead. Maybe you’d get lucky and a princess would just fall out of the sky right into your lap and love you from that first moment she laid her eyes on you. Maybe you’d be trekking around Ooo forever. You hope neither of those scenarios comes true; you’d rather have a good relationship with your future wife, one that doesn’t begin right when you meet.

 

                  Sleep does not come easy. Your brain won’t stop calculating the probability of the world ending at midnight, or thinking about how much you want to kick Lemonsnatch into next week, or even better, next year.

 

                  And if you’re really, _really_ lucky, absolutely nothing bad will happen on your quest.

 

                  After you think about that, unconsciousness slips over you like silk.

 

* * *

 

 

                  Lemonsnatch hums approvingly as you stick your arms through the handles of your backpack. It’s pretty heavy, but you will manage. Peppermint Maid dabs at her eyes with her hankie before she hugs you goodbye; a lifetime of servitude for Lemonsnatch is a terrible price to pay for the Ice Queen’s stupidity. Now that you think about it, the whole thing is really her fault. If she hadn’t kidnapped you and dropped you in the Lich’s well of power, you wouldn’t be in this mess! You vow to get your revenge, even though revenge is not your strongest point. Fionna and Cake would be delighted to help you.

 

                  “Best of luck to you, Prince Gumball,” Lemonsnatch cackles. “Oh, I mean, Gumball.”

 

                  “Thank you, Lemonsnatch,” you grind out. Count to five, quick, before you do something you might regret. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. You begin to make your way to the entrance when she stops you with one of her grating groans.

 

                  You turn on your heel and resist rolling your eyes dramatically. “What?” You ask none-too-kindly.

 

                  “You must address me as _Queen_ Lemonsnatch!” She cries. You probably should get your eardrums checked on account of they just got shattered. She taps her foot impatiently, apparently waiting for you to use her full title.

 

                  “ _Queen_ Lemonsnatch.” You comply grudgingly. “Good bye.” _And good riddance,_ you think. You’re getting too morbid. It’s time to leave.

 

                  The banana guards throw the doors open, and you step out into Ooo for the first time as an average citizen. Your newfound status makes everything look different from when you saw it as a Prince.

 

                  Everything is much more vivid than you remember. The streets are buzzing with candy people activity, though none of them will acknowledge you. The smell of sugar is thick in the air, much stronger now that you are aware.

 

                  You are aware.

 

                  You are aware of everything in this kingdom; every pebble, every crack, every blade of grass, even every atom is noticed by you and you can’t stop thinking about how you’ll probably never see it again, none of it at all, and your steps don’t falter because you have to be strong even though you feel like the second you are out of sight, your knees will buckle. You are aware that you are sad.

 

                  Your feet are ahead of your mind, leading you through the cobblestoned streets towards the outer limits of your former kingdom. It seems strange, or rather paranoid, but you think someone is watching you. You turn around with dramatic flair, and see several people quickly look away. Lemonsnatch must have passed some sort of ordinance to keep her subjects in check and away from you. Their loyalty to you would be very threatening to her. You return to your monotonous walking but are stopped short by a very small, very cute chocolate drop. She looks nervous, the way that children look when they know they’re doing something that could get them in trouble, yet defiant. She reaches her hands up and offers you a small bracelet. You take it.

 

                  “We all hope you have a good trip, Prince Gumball!” she whispers quickly, and runs to rejoin her friends that are standing on the side of the road. You look after her as the children chase after a ball, thanking her silently.

 

                  It isn’t too long before you’re outside the kingdom and completely alone. But something’s bugging you. You can still feel a pair of eyes on you, creeping you the math out. There’s no one around, though, so you just have to stick it out.

 

                  It’s still weird and creepy.

 

                  The grass grows taller the farther away from the kingdom you get. You credit your gifted mind for thinking ahead and getting you to put on long pants, or else the grass would tickle your overexposed legs. What you hadn’t thought enough about is where you are going or how long it would take to get there. You’re already exhausted! If you weren’t so tired, you would probably feel pathetic. You wish you still had the Morrow to help you travel. And you can still feel those eyes!

 

                  Never mind. You will trek on. The scenery changes slowly, shifting from sugary landscapes to forested environments that you haven’t seen in a while. You stop for a bit when the sun is directly overhead. And then, while you are crunching away on sweet cucumber sandwiches, you hear the breathing. It’s just above you, not too far up in the tree you are leaning against, and it is huffy, annoyed breathing. You tactfully continue eating while calculating the exact trajectory of the rock you are about to launch north. Ready, aim, and… fire!

 

                  Marshall Lee lands with an irritated grunt and a thump at your feet. He sits up and rubs at the back of his head while glaring at you, but it’s all in good humor. “What was that for?” he accuses, putting on a pout.

 

                  “Why are you following me?” you demand.

 

                  “You can’t answer a question with a question, Bubba. Try again.”

 

                  “Gob, you are such a child!” you cry, throwing your sandwich down. In retrospect, that display of exasperation was probably not the best idea since you only have so many cucumber sandwiches. “I threw the rock because it’s impolite to follow people around without telling them you’re there. Now answer my question.”

 

                  He snickers mischievously. “I figured you would need some assistance on this little quest of yours. Who else is going to hook you up with the ladies of Ooo?” Marshall waggles his eyebrows at you. He is so cocky sometimes! “I’m gonna be the good guy and give you dating tips. I’ll even arrange meetings, on the house!”

 

                  “I don’t need your charity, _Marshall_. I’m perfectly capable of attracting members of the opposite sex.” He snorts. The nerve of that guy! You get red in the face. “I’m serious!”

 

                  “So am I. We’re getting you a princess, whether you want my help or not.” He gathers up your stuff without permission and shoves it in your backpack. You grumble but get up anyway. You snatch your pack away from him and march on. His presence – floating behind you – is irksome. Why is he even helping you anyway?

 

                  “Why are you even helping me, anyway?” you snap at him.

 

                  Marshall floats backwards in front of you, replying, “I’m not a huge fan of that sourpuss of a queen you let take control.” You try to tell him that it wasn’t _your_ fault, that it was the Ice Queen’s, but he waves his hand at you and keeps talking. “There’s no way I’m gonna report to Lemonsnatch about the happenings of the Nightosphere. That’s my biz, not hers. And anyway, we’re acquaintances and it’s the least I could do.”

 

                  This surprises you. You expected that his reasoning for helping you was nothing more than selfish, but you never thought he’d consider you a friend. Sure, you hang out sometimes, but it’s usually only with Fionna and Cake as mediators. You and Marshall have had your fair share of spats. And he spat on you that one time. You still can’t let that slide!

 

                  You clear your throat awkwardly and continue on in silence.

 

* * *

 

 

                  The sun is barely visible by the time you find an adequate place to set up camp. You rely on Marshall to pitch the tent; your brief stint as a hard-candy scout was, apparently, for naught. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. But he did still call you prissy.

 

                  Marshall Lee saddles you with the difficult task of collecting firewood. You’re not really sure which sticks are better for fire, so you pick up at least five different sticks. When you get back, he grits his teeth and tells you that five sticks are not near enough sticks to start a fire. You huff and go grab another five before he takes over that job, too.

 

                  You and Marshall feast like kings, though really only one of you is. You’re glad you packed extra food. Not many words are exchanged over dinner, but it’s to be expected and you don’t let it bother you too much. You assume you have several more days of his companionship and that’s plenty of time and opportunity to talk more.

                 

                  When the fire is down to a wimpy sizzle you decide to call it a night and roll out your sleeping bag. You apologize to Marshall for not having another for him to use, but he waves his hands and says he doesn’t need one. He usually floats over his bed anyway. You crawl inside the sleeping bag and turn to snuff out the flames.


End file.
